


Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

by mosqlarva



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Feelstide 2015, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, but only very minor and you don't need to know, kind of a crossover?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5418263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosqlarva/pseuds/mosqlarva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers are called to respond to a wintery threat on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

Today would be the day.  After years of scorn being heaped upon him, after enduring endless insults and disparagement, his time had come.     
  
“Soon my old friend,” he said, nodding at his silent companion standing stalwart next to him.  “Soon they will all see who was right.”  He paused and cocked his head.  “Don't be ridiculous, of course I have thought this through.  It will be....glorious.”  
  
The faint chime of bells and carolers began to filter through the brisk night air.   A soft dusting of snow began to fall, adding to the piles that had already drifted into driveways.  He cackled maniacally.  “Such clueless little people.  We'll see what they have to sing about soon enough."  
  
He cradled his device in his hands and crooned over it like a mother over a baby.  "And yes I'm sure it works.  I've got the kinks all worked out this time.  It won't be temporary!  I've figured it out.  Trust me."  
  
He held the gun-like device in one hand.  Feeling more superior, more confident than ever before, he tossed his scarf over his shoulder.  His companion listed slightly in the snow and he reached out to steady him with his free hand.  
  
*******  
  
Tony surveyed the lobby with a critical gaze. "What do you think?"  
  
"An elf vomited over your tower?" Clint muttered, grunting slightly as Natasha elbowed him in the side.  Tony gave him a sideways glance promising a foul fate for those who would spoil this moment for their illustrious leader, champion of the free world, and apparently an artist with no sense of style when it came to Christmas decor.  
  
Steve was grinning widely.  He had mentioned the previous week that he missed decorating for Christmas.  His eyes had gotten that far away look and Tony, ever willing to please, had immediately asked Jarvis to order a metric ton of Christmas ornamentation.  When the delivery had arrived earlier that day, Steve enthusiastically led the team in unpacking.  The brown boxes opened to reveal a pile of decorations with a heavy emphasis on holiday kitsch rather than elegant sophistication.        
  
As a result, plastic holy branches with bright fake berries ran along the edges of the front desk of the lobby.  Oversized stockings with brightly wrapped presents were hung by the elevators with care.  A fake tree squatted in a corner exuding 'natural' fresh pine scent and was bedazzled with white garland spiraling up in a seeming attempt to goose the angel precariously perched at the top.  A pair of wire reindeer with animatronic heads and LED lights haunted the window.    
  
The crowning glory was a three foot tall stuffed Santa that played a tinny version of jingle bells when people triggered the motion sensor in the doorway.   There had been a moment of slight concern when Bruce had accidently and unknowingly triggered it, but a cup of eggnog with holiday cheer had quickly settled his nerves.  
  
It was over the top, outlandish.  But the look of satisfaction and glee on Steve’s face was worth it, Clint would concede…even if it looked like Coulson wouldn't be present to appreciate it.    
  
Coulson and the Avengers had been set to enjoy a communal potluck meal with a healthy assortment of drinks acquired from Tony’s bar.   Coulson had made Clint’s favourite holiday food:  bacon-filled rolls.   He'd found the recipe in a small town in Latveria in one of the many excursions to take down von Doom.  He'd even given Clint his own basket of them to save for later, sheepishly handing it over saying he hadn't had the time to go Christmas shopping,    
  
Clint’s mouth had started drooling at the smell of the warm yeast rolls filled with bacony goodness.  So he'd just pushed Coulson’s present at him.  He was soon unable to talk due to the savory delight crammed in his mouth.    
  
Coulson had unwrapped the box Clint had covered with shiny green and red paper.  A warm tingle that had nothing to do with his innate joy of bacon had developed in Clint’s stomach when Coulson's face lit up at the collection of Cary Grant movies.  Natasha had immediately declared that the afternoon would be spent eating food, drinking eggnog and watching the movies.  She had punctuated her declaration with a side glance at Clint and nod to the love seat that she clearly expected him and Coulson to jointly occupy.  Clint had ineffectively glared back at her.  
  
Unfortunately, Coulson has been called in just as opening credits to _His Girl Friday_ started and Clint’s plans to surreptitiously cuddle with his handler dissipated.  With an apologetic shrug, The senior agent had gathered up his coat.   Shortly after his departure, the decorations arrived.  Clint personally thought the ornament of Blitzen screwing Rudolph would be the highlight of the evening when Steve finally saw it.   He planned to get a picture for Coulson.  
  
He was brought out of his thoughts by a flurry of white in his peripheral vision.  
  
“It's not too much, is it?” Steve asked, sprinkling some fake snow onto to the boughs of the fake tree.  
  
Looking up into Captain America’s earnest face, all Scrooge-like thoughts vanished.   “Nah, Cap.   It's perfect.”  
  
*******  
  
Coulson glared at the agent who scanned his badge at headquarters.  His mood had grown ever more foul as he drove the thirty minute, slushy commute from the avengers tower to the nondescript building that housed SHIELD when the helicarrier was inconvenient.  
  
His plans had been going so well.  Clint had virtually inhaled half of the piragi when he had handed over the basket.   It had taken all his willpower not to pounce the younger man when the orgasmic gastric groans had begun.  Clint’s present had also created great promise of a comfortable afternoon spent in good company.   Natasha's not-so-veiled suggestion –given while mixing the eggnog -- to try canoodling on the love seat also seemed to be a good idea in the warmth of holiday cheer.  
  
But now, after soaking his feet in the wet snow, almost clipping a parked delivery truck when his car has slid on black ice, and having left the warmth and comfort of Clint’s presence, his mood was as dark as the coffee he was planning on getting before heading to Operations: black, no sugar and smelling like it had been burnt three times over.  
  
The coffee was a horrible as anticipated and he grimaced as he sipped it.  This coincided nicely with his entrance to Operations.  There were three junior agents clustered around the computer screen, gesturing and whispering to each other.   Agent Markham had just joined a year ago, right after the Chitauri incident when SHIELD had recruited heavily.  Agents McDonald and Franklin were part of an earlier cohort that had been fairly green when the invasion happened.  They were all skittish as hell in the field, and were currently so engrossed that they didn't acknowledge his presence.   Cousin cleared his throat.   No response.  Briefly closing his eyes, he counted to ten and then raised his voice.    
  
“What have we got?”  He asked, taking another sip of coffee.  
  
They snapped to attention and stood rigidly eying each other.  Markham nudged Franklin with an elbow and slightly widened his eyes at her.   She narrowed her eyes back at him, but she stepped forward and gestured at the screen beside her.  “We're not quite sure sir.  Initial reports are conflicting.”  
  
Coulson sighed.  “Bomb? Biohazard? Mutant?”  
  
Agent McDonald’s brow furrowed and Coulson made a note to have a word with her about her tells. “Is there a problem, McDonald?”  
  
“No sir, well sir, it's just that...”  
  
“It's what, Agent?” Coulson snapped, having lost all patience.  
  
“Have you seen the movie _Frozen_ , sir?”  
  
Coulson put down his coffee and pitched the bridge of his nose.  “Call the Avengers.”  
  
*******  
  
“Okay, people listen up.   We have approximately eighty hostiles moving out of Central Park, on a trajectory to what seems to be the American Museum of Natural History.   Ironman, Thor, we need you in the air, trying to lure or herd them down Central park, and down 77th, away from the museum, back towards the park.”  
  
“Sounds good,” Tony replied.   On the screen before him, Coulson could see the tiny red blip zip away from the tower, followed by Thor’s signal and an accompanying declaration: “We shall conquer these beasts!”  
  
“Banner, we’ll need the Hulk on this one, front and centre.  The goal is to smash the hell out of these things.  We’re not going for finesse.  Hawkeye and Black Widow can get you there in the quinjet.”       
  
“Smashing is my specialty,” Bruce replied with a self depreciating grin in his voice  
  
“We're feeling left out Coulson,” Clint snarked through his comm.  
  
“I was just getting to you, Barton.  We're going to put you on the museum to hold the front line.  Anything that gets past Hulk is yours.  Widow and Captain Rogers, you'll be taking up a rear assault, as they get herded back to the park.   We want to keep these as contained as possible.”  
  
He tapped a screen to call up reports from the park.  
  
“I've got agents on the ground already clearing the park of people who haven't already fled, and securing a perimeter, I'll be coordinating things from our home office.   Team comm on channel one; general, channel two;  private, channel three.”  
  
“Sounds good,” Steve said.   “Any intel on what we are up against?”  
  
“Yeah, what kinds of monsters are we talking here?  Dragons?  Godzilla? Lizards? Robot birds?   It's been a while since we had aliens,” Clint quipped, sounding distracted.  Coulson could picture him double checking his quiver but knew that he was listening to every word.   It wasn't just his eyesight that caught everything.  
  
“We are not quite sure at this point.  Reports are confused and I'm trying to get reports that make sense from the agents on the scene.  At this point, it is suggested you prepare to use heat based and smashing attacks as the hostiles are vulnerable to heat and crushing as they seems to have some sort of snow or ice based powers.  Widow, your stingers will not, I repeat not, have effect, so please improvise with crushing power or find a heat source you can use.”  
  
Coulson paused as Markham rushed through the door holding a phone out in hand.  “Hold for moment please.”  He relieved Markham  of the phone.  “This is Coulson, what have we got?”   The rest of the people in the room watched as his eyebrows climbed higher and higher.   He slowly put down the phone and clicked on the comm.  
  
“Avengers, we have a bad case of rogue snowmen.”  
  
“It's Frosty the fucking Snowman!” Tony blurted over the comm as he arrived on the scene in Central Park. Coulson looked at iron mans tracker as it hovered over Central Park.   The quinjet was two minutes out, and Coulson could feel a spike of adrenaline.  
  
“What, like corn-cob-pipe -button-nose-and-two-eyes-made-of-of-coal Frosty?” Clint asked.  
   
“Not,...exactly....,” Tony replied.  
  
*******  
  
Clint gave a thumbs up to Natasha and Steve as the quinjet began its ascent back into the sky.    Perched up high on the museum would give him an excellent view of the park’s entrance where the hoards were expected to exit, hopefully to be met with the Hulk and a barrage of explosive arrows.  He tossed his bag down and began clearing snow quickly off a fifteen foot wide patch of the roof so that he wouldn't be hindered. As he shoved powdery white fluff over the awning, he tapped his comm with one hand, switching it to his private channel.  
  
“So Coulson, where do animated zombie snowmen fall on the weird-o-meter?   I'm thinking weirder than the jelly moulds from hell, but cooler than the giant bugs." He snorted to himself, “Ha.  Get it, cooler?”  
  
“Your wit never ceases to amaze me, Barton,” Coulson said.Clint grinned widely at his dry drawl.  Deserts were more humid than Coulson s banter.    
  
“After this I am definitely making some of my special hot chocolate.  Wanna join me?  I'll add extra Irish cream.”  Clint tried to make it casual, and not at all like he was a fifteen year old boy asking his first crush out to the ice cream parlor.     
  
“Sounds like a date,” said Coulson warmly; so warmly that Clint had to stop sweeping snow for a moment and process the other man’s response.    
  
“Really?  Cool. I think I might even have mini marshmallows.”   Clint winced.  Could he sound more pathetic?  
  
“Who could really resist,” Coulson chuckled.  Clint tamped down on the warm feeling in his chest at the thought and focused on the problem at hand.  Romantic pining over his handler would have to wait,   He had snowmen to explode.   His grin turned feral.   Snowmen to explode.  It was a good day to be an Avenger.    
  
Clint's kit was small enough to fit in a duffle bag he could sling on his back in a moment’s notice.   He grabbed his primary and secondary quivers to begin the task of swapping out the explosive arrowheads.  Turning on the heat was never so much fun as when he got to blow things up.     
  
His comm beeped and he switched back to the team channel.    
  
“Hawkeye, we have landed at the park.   Thor and Ironman have already begun trying to turn back the stampede.   Widow and I will do a sweep along the back to take out any stragglers,  you should have visuals any minute,”   Steve reported.  
   
“I'll be using explosive tips, so try to stay clear of the front.  Things will get hot fast,” Clint said as he primed his bow with the first explosive arrow and took a balanced stance, crouched low.  The roof was not ideal with the light dusting of snow.  Despite his best attempts, his boots were ready to slip and slide across the icy surface.     
  
He rose from his crouch as the first glimpse of the creatures exiting the park became visible.  Tony was right.  It wasn't Frosty at all, more like the walking dead but with snow men.  They lurched awkwardly down the street waving twisted stick arms.  Many had mangled torsos and raggedy scarves and hats.  Focusing in on the slowly ambling mass ahead, he could read a sign carried by one of the snow creatures.  It read 'the end is nigh'  
  
“This is seriously freaky,” he said.  And that's when things got wild.  
  
*******  
  
Maria Hill set a ceramic cup by Coulson’s elbow.  “How are things looking?”  
  
Coulson gave her a wan smile and gratefully picked up the cup.   “Things seemed to be contained for now.   Ironman and Thor have successfully turned the tide back towards Central Park and any stragglers have been either crushed by Hulk or picked off by Barton.”    
  
His eyes widened as he took a sip.  “This isn't from the mess,” he said.    
  
Maria grinned,  “My private stash, just for these sorts of occasions.”  
  
“What, ‘animated zombie snowmen’ is a thing now?”  
  
“No, don't be ridiculous.   ‘Can't spend Christmas Eve with your true love even if you both are dumb asses’ is a thing,” Maria retorted with and evil glint in her eye.  
  
“Someone's been talking on her private comm channel again,” Coulson said.  He'd have to schedule a chat with Natasha about appropriate comm usage.  
  
“Shit!” Tony's voice rang over the speakers.  “Guys, we've got a problem.”  
  
“Report,” Coulson snapped.  
  
“I just spotted another wave, but it's not coming from the park. It's coming from West End Manhattan.   Hold on, I'm going in for a fly by."  Coulson could see Tony's signal moving towards the Hudson.  "Uh, you're not going to like this."  
  
"What is it?" Steve asked, his voice flat.  
  
"Well, it’s not Frosty the zombie snowmen, that's for sure.  Remember that snow sculpture festival down on Riverside?  All of them are roaming the streets.  And it’s not looking ---" Tony's voice broke off a harsh whine filled the comms.    
  
"Tony?" Steve called out.  "Tony, are you okay?"  
  
"Hold on, everyone, I'm relocating to the west side of the building," Clint said, "I should have eyes on...what the hell is that?"  
  
*******  
  
Clint jumped across the slippery tiles as he scanned the sky and ground between the buildings.  His breath plumed in the cold air behind him he ran.    
  
"What's Ironman's status?" Steve demanded over the comm.  Clint saw a flash of red and gold as he made it to the top of the conical roof overlooking Manhattan.  
  
"Hold on.  Wait, I see him.  He's on the ground but mobile.   We've got a more serious problem. " Clint scanned the skies.  "Something took him down."  A flash of movement over the Hudson caught his eyes.    It was a white dragon, with large wings. Behind it, a sinuous tail lazily whipped in waves as it soared over the city towards the museum. Instead of fire, it was breathing great gusts of snow, dropping several feet of snow per second on the emptied streets below.  Smaller snow figures -- too small discern even with his vision -- also flew above the tops of buildings.  
  
"We've got some aerial attackers.  There's a snow dragon, I repeat a snow dragon and it’s flying my way.  I think I can take it out with an explosive tip, but we'll need more support in the sky."  
  
"I shall be there anon," Thor bellowed.  
  
"Thanks, man.  Focus on the other fliers.  I've got the dragon covered, I think.  There's no time, anyway. He's coming right at me."  Clint drew an arrow and nocked it, drawing the bow and securing his foothold.   "Coulson, this thing is big.  Like really big, maybe thirty tons of snow. The snowmen were smaller. A lot smaller."  
  
"Will it be a problem?"  
  
"Most of the snowmen vaporized in the explosions.  I have a feeling that there's enough snow mass to make this a little messier.  Clean up will be a bitch.  And I’m not going to be digging out cars for the rest of the month."  
  
"I think we can handle some piles of snow, Clint" Coulson laughed.  "Take the shot."  
  
"Taking the shot."  The string gave a musical twang and the arrow sped towards the main bulk of the dragon that was closing quickly.  Once he saw it stick, he pushed the button on the remote only to have nothing happen.  "Shit."  He quickly grabbed another from his quiver and drew, firing three in rapid succession.  But by the time he hit the remote, it was too late.  Exposed, and nowhere to run on the roof, Clint had enough time to tuck into a ball and cover his head as the snow dragon exploded into an avalanche of snow cascading down him.  The world went sideways, white and chaotic.  Clint had time to register that he was falling down when his head struck something hard and the entire world faded to black.  
  
*******  
  
Coulson heard Clint curse and knew something was wrong.   A thermal explosion registered on the radar screens right above the museums location,    
  
“Clint, report,   Clint, are you there?”   There was a chilling silence in the room except for the crackle of static on the comm.  Coulson switched to a completely open line.  “Avengers, all shield agents, we need someone at the museum.  Hawkeye is down.  I repeat Hawkeye is down.   Can anyone get there?”  
  
“On my way,” Natasha confirmed flatly.  “You better get here Coulson.”  
  
He looked at Maria who nodded.  “I can a hold down the fort here. Take med evac chopper just in case.”  
  
“Avengers, I'm on my way.  We need to find a way to shut this down.  Now.”  
  
He burst onto the roof, where the helicopter was already starting to spin its rotor.  The wind on the roof of the building cut through his suit like a knife, but it was nothing compared to the icy feeling in his chest at the thought of Clint’s silence.  He buckled himself in, giving a curt nod to the two paramedics who were bustling in the back checking the supplies.  
  
There was a crackle in the Avenger’s comm line,  
  
“...reboot, but better now....think I have...”  
  
“Ironman, is that you?”  Steve asked.  “You’re breaking up.”  
  
“...the problem...able to......  Damnit, Jarvis....do better.” The static disappeared suddenly.  “Can you hear me now?”  
  
“Affirmative.  Report.”  
  
“Who pissed in your Wheaties, Coulson?”  
  
“Hawkeye went down.  I'm on route,  you've been incommunicado for the last five minutes.”  
  
“Yeah, sorry.  I got whacked in the back and hit the ground hard,  had to reboot and fix some subroutines before I could get communications back on line and get airborne again.  I'm just nearing the museum now….Oh my god.”  Tony’s voice hissed.  
  
“What?”  
  
“The south west wing is buried in snow.   We’re taking four stories worth of snow here. Where's Hawkeye?”  Coulson could hear Tony’s repulsors whine as he banked sharply through the air.  
  
“We don't know.   His last position was near the turret tower on the south west wall.”  
  
“Give me two seconds,   Jarvis, scan for heat signatures inside.”  There was a pregnant pause.  “Coulson, I've got a faint heat signature on the south side.   He’s buried under a huge amount of snow and the temperature of the signal is falling.  Fast.”  
  
Coulson glanced out the window of the helicopter.  “Roger that.  We are three minutes out.  Can you use your repulsors to get him out?”  
  
“I'm not sure.  Any tunnel I dig might have to be shored up and we don't have the time to --”  There was roar that could be heard through the comms.  “Uh, oh.  Here comes the jolly green giant and more snow things. Guys, we have more snow creatures out here.  I need back up.  The good news, though ,is that I think I found the one responsible for this mess,  Jarvis has been monitoring social media and there's some wackaloon who's been tweeting about his successful revolt against the Mundanes and the city of New York,  I've tracked his location.”  
  
“Let me guess, the North Pole?” Steve interjected, not even sounding out of breath despite the fight.  
  
“Cute, but no, actually he's in the museum, some dinosaur exhibit to be exact.  Avengers assemble!”  
  
“Tony, focus on helping the Hulk get to Hawkeye.  Steve, Natasha, can you get inside the museum and apprehend our villain?”  
  
“On our way.”  Steve said.  
  
Coulson tapped the shoulder of the pilot and waved two fingers towards the museum, trying to wring any last speed out of the helicopter.  One minute later they were circling looking for a landing spot.  "Set us down there," Coulson barked, pointing to a school's basketball court that lay kitty corner to the museum.  "Wait until my signal to approach. We're not sure the status of the Hulk.  Keep the motor running and be ready to leave immediately."  
  
He jumped down, and keeping low to the ground,  headed for the road, watching out for errant sculptures.  He could hear Hulk roaring and by the time he managed to reach the deserted intersection by the museum, the deafening bellows were thankfully muffled.  
  
The towering walls of the museum were mounded high with snow.  It appeared as though the snow had cascaded down from the roof, piling high on the wall and sloping ever further out as it descended.   Ironman was busy picking off snow sculptures while Hulk was more than halfway covered in snow tunneling through the snow piles.  Steve and Natasha were engaged in what Clint liked to call ninja ballet, gracefully leaping and twirling as they smashed their way through elves, surfs, Santas, eagles, and snow wolves as they approached the entrance  
  
“That's it, Jolly Green, just a few more feet.  Be careful, the snow is starting to shift,” Tony shouted.  With a roar Hulk freed himself from the weight of snow, carefully cradling a limp form in one arm.  The other arm carefully shielded Clint from any falling snow or debris.    
  
“Hulk, can you bring Clint to the helicopter?”  Coulson shouted as he snatched up a broken awning and smashed an Elsa and Anna conjoined twin sculpture that was lurching towards him.  Hulk snarled and before Coulson could snatch his breath, he was engulfed in a huge fist and given the most terrifying ride in existence.  It only took a few seconds, but the feel of Hulk’s flexing muscles and tendons in the huge grip was heart stopping.  Despite Hulk’s strength and speed, Coulson barely felt a bump as he was gently deposited beside the helicopter.  Clint was likewise lowered to the ground,  
  
“Fix birdie!”  Hulk snarled and then bounded off to rejoin the fight.  
  
Coulson waved the medics out from the helicopter and quickly checked Clint’s vitals. His pulse was sluggish and blood was rapidly flowing from a large gash on his head staining the snow crimson.  He was breathing shallowly, but he was alive.    
  
“Clint, can you hear me?”  There was no response. The medics slid to a stop beside him and began to triage Clint's injuries.  
  
“Sir, let us work, okay?   Let's move and assess his stats in the air!” They deftly attached a neck brace and rolled him carefully onto a backboard.  “Are you coming sir, or staying here?”  
  
Coulson only hesitated for a fraction of a second.  He knew that his heart was going on the helicopter, but his better sense knew that he had to stay.  
  
“Go.  Keep me updated on the comm. Let me know immediately if anything goes wrong.”  Unstated was the implication that nothing should go wrong or they would regret it.  
  
They whisked the backboard and its valuable cargo quickly away and Coulson backed up as snow swirled around him.  Re-centering himself with a quick deep breath, he looked about for a weapon.  A baseball bat lay abandoned in the field and he snatched it up and began his return to the museum.    
  
Outside things seemed to be in control, with only smaller sculptures left.  Hulk and tony doing clean up and Coulson gave them a quick nod as he entered the museum, tossing the baseball bat and drawing his gun.  
  
“Tony, where was the location again?”  
  
“Dinosaur exhibit,” Tony replied.  
  
“Which one?  There are at least three exhibit halls spread over two floors.  Be specific,”  Coulson hissed as he hugged the wall, moving towards the stairwell to the second floor.  
  
“I'm not even going to ask how you know that.  It’s the one with the T. Rex according to the Twitter pics.” Tony said.  
  
Coulson gave a brief sigh, “Fourth floor it is,” and detoured to the elevator,    
  
“Steve, Natasha, you there?”  
  
“Affirmative,” Natasha whispered.  “We have target in sight; he seems to be monologuing.”  
  
“Can you take him down?”  
  
“Affirmative.”  
  
“Go for it.”    
  
The elevator pinged gently and the doors slid open. He braced himself against the wall to the right of the elevator and craned his neck to peer around through the opening to the exhibit.  Captain America was talking to a short, blond, spiky haired man.   Steve had placed his shield on his back and was holding up his hands in a calming manner.   Their target was standing beneath the T. Rex skeleton, dressed in unassuming clothes and waving around a weapon that looked like a movie prop from a science fiction movie made in the seventies.  
  
“Sir, put down the gun,” Steve requested politely.  
  
“It’s not a gun!” came the upset retort.  “How many times do I have to say that?”  
  
“Sorry, I meant put down the death blaster ray.  We've stopped the invasion.  It’s over.”  
  
“It will never be over!  You will know of my powers!  You will forever regret underestimating my supreme evilness!  I shall overcome all ---" his rant was cut off abruptly as Black Widow's stingers had him convulsing on the floor.  Coulson stepped into the room, holstering his weapon.    
  
“Well done.  Now how do we stop the sculptures?”  
  
Steve shrugged and looked to Natasha as she rappelled down from the T.Rex skull.  With a quick flick, she sent another electro charge towards the gun and sparks shot out from the tip before fizzling quickly out.  "Ironman, we have the one responsible in custody and I think I have neutralized his weapon.  What's going on out there?"  
  
“I don't know what you did, but it worked!”  Tony crowed.  "Everything just froze up.  Go team!"  
  
"How's Hawkeye? Steve asked, pushing back his cowl and smoothing down his hair.  
  
"Alive," Coulson said curtly.    
  
Steve rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “I'm sure he'll be fine.  A little snow won't hurt him.  He’s tough.”  
  
“I told him to take the shot.” Coulson said, shaking his head.  “It’s my fault.  He even warned me that it was too big.”  
  
“He trusts you to make the right call,” Natasha responded as she pulled cuffs from her belt and proceeded to restrain the unconscious man at her feet.  “You okay, Captain?”  
  
“Not a scratch,” Steve said with a shiver.   “But can we get out of the cold now? Tony promised hot toddies to help warm everyone up while we wait to hear about Clint.” Coulson had to suppress the urge to ruffle the man’s hair.  Damn he felt old.  He felt even older when he thought about Clint’s unconscious form being carried away by the helicopter.  
  
Steve hoisted the prisoner over his shoulder and began a slow jog out of the exhibit room.  Natasha gently prodded Coulson to follow.  “I think Tony might have more planned to warm that boy up than hot toddies.”  
  
“It wouldn’t surprise me.” Coulson bit back a sigh and glanced at his phone. No updates so far.  
  
“He will be fine,” Natasha cupped his jaw in an oddly comforting way,  
  
“I know.”  
  
“At least he will be unless you don't get your act together.  I swear if you do not declare yourself to him I will castrate you both.  Understood?”   Her grip tightened on his chin as she gently wagged his head from side to side before releasing him with two pats on both cheeks.    
  
“Crystal clear.” He nodded.  
  
“Good. Now let's get you back so you can mope at Clint’s bedside like the tragic figure you want to be. “  
  
*******  
  
The sound of Coulson's pen was a counterpoint to the slow beep of the heart monitor.  The lights were dimmed and the hallways were quiet.  Deep in the night, even the night shift was quiet, speaking in soft murmurs and slurps of strong coffee.  Occasionally a nurse would pop in to adjust the leads, write down numbers in the chart and offer Coulson use of the staff coffee pot.    
  
The cup he was sipping from had 'I'm a nurse, what's your super power?" painted on the side.  The provider of said cup had seemed embarrassed about it, but Coulson had given a small smile and thanked her for the caffeine infusion.    
  
Now he sat, filling in the report Fury was expecting in the morning. He was currently trying to phrase "monumentally fucked up individual creates snow zombies and animates nearby snow sculptures because he was too fucking stupid to figure out the range of his goddamn invention" in a more professional sounding way.  He made a mental note to include the A26B9 form which would provide the museum an anonymous donation to help with repairs and clean up.  Thankfully injuries had been kept to a minimum and no fatalities had been reported, just some minor cases of frostbite and Barton's current condition.  
  
"Everyone okay?"  Clint’s voice was rough, but it was music to Coulson's ears,   He carefully put down his report and pulled his chair close to the bed.    
  
"Tony's suit is a little battered.   Steve is trying to forget the cold again, Bruce is sleeping off a Hulk hangover and Natasha is pissed that the villain of the week decided to try stop her with a --and I quote -- 'death ray blaster'   He apparently has a megalomaniacal personality and is grossly delusional, believing himself to have invented a ray that an transform things to his desires.  Oh, and he wants the official report to record his name as ‘Stupendous man’.”   Maria's eye was twitching by the end of the interrogation.  “So yes, everyone fine, except you, who was going for the world’s worse imitation of a concussed Popsicle.”  
  
“The better for you to suck me,” Clint smiled lazily at him.  Coulson froze and Clint’s face transformed from infirmed-but-happy to injured-and-horrified in less than one second  
  
“Shit, did I say that out loud,” Clint moaned, trying to cover his face with his hands but only succeeding in tangling the IV lines and monitor leads.  Coulson grabbed the younger man’s hands before the IV could pull out.  He stared at his fingers, gently wrapped around Clint’s wrists,  
  
“It's okay.  No, really,” he continued as Clint started to protest.   “I want this as much as you do.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Positive.”  
  
“Wow,” Clint said, sounding as surprised as Coulson felt.  “I should've been attacked by flying animated snow sculptures earlier.”  
  
“Blame it on the seasonal cheer -- and Natasha threatening my manhood if I didn't tell you how I felt before the end of Christmas."  
  
“What day is it?” Clint asked, blinking muzzily at the clock which ticked over to 3:15.    
  
“December 25.  Merry Christmas, Clint.”  
  
“Merry Christmas, Phil.”   There was deep promise of great things to come in Clint’s voice.  But any hopes of fulfilling those things were dashed by the arrival of a nurse, who fussed with readings, checked Clint’s pulse and took his temperature.   Clint rolled his eyes dramatically at Phil during the entire process.  She decorously ignored their intertwined fingers and patted Coulson on the shoulder as she left the room.  
  
After she left, they lay and sat respectively in companionable silence, hands joined.  
  
“Clint, I’m sorry.”  Coulson said, not meeting Clint’s eyes and focusing on the sheets under their hands.”  
  
“For what, rescuing me?” Clint asked with a furrowed brow.  “I don’t think that’s something you have to apologize for.”  
  
“For telling you to take the shot.  I didn’t realize it was that close.  You could have died.”  He sighed heavily.  “I know that you have a risky job and I’ve sent you out on even more dangerous missions, but today...” he trailed off.  
  
“I took the shot because I thought it was still safe.  And it would have been if the first arrow had detonated.  We’ll have to get Tony to take a look and see what went wrong.”  Clint said with a tight squeeze of his fingers.  “Don’t you dare blame yourself for that.”  
  
Coulson lifted their hands and kissed the back of Clint’s.  “It might take a while.”  
  
Clint grinned.  “I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
A brief silence once again fell on the room.  
  
“Hey Phil…”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“We decorated the tower after you left.  It's awesome.”  
  
“I can't wait to see it.”  
  
“There's a Rudolph ornament that's very inspiring.  You gotta see it.”  
  
“I look forward to the experience.”  
  
  
_fin_  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is response to the Feelstide 2015 prompt: A rogue scientist zaps all of the snow sculptures in NY, turning them sentient. It is also my first story in this fandom, so I hope it suffices. Thanks to my partner, Kelmendi, for the beta. She made it better, but any mistakes that remain are still mine!


End file.
